


On the Road to Recovery

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7168685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson is recovering from a fever</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lying in Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's Fan Flashworks "Whistle" challenge, plus Watson's Woes monthly prompt "Anticipation"

Dr Watson listened to the sounds around him as he lay in his bed.  The fever had finally broken and he was keen to be up and about once more, but he had been told to remain in bed for a further day.  As a medical practitioner himself, he would have ignored this advice, but an attempt earlier in the day to rise had proved the sense in the instruction.  So he reluctantly remained where he was.  
  
He was very conscious of being alone.  During the time of his fever he had been vaguely aware of someone being present most of the time, and now, when he would have appreciated some company, he felt forgotten.  He knew this was unreasonable.  Holmes, who he believed had undertaken most of the night-time vigils, was busy with a number of cases.  And Mrs Hudson, who had devoted so much of her days to his care, had a household to run.  
  
So Watson lay back and listened.  He could hear the delivery boys whistling popular tunes in the street.  There was a knock on the front door and Watson heard Mrs Hudson accept the meat from the butcher’s boy.  As she checked off the delivery of steak and kidney, Watson’s mouth began to water at the thought of one of Mrs Hudson’s pies.  He noted the return of his appetite as a clear sign of his recovery, as well as a promise of an imminent return to strength.  And then he heard the butcher’s boy depart, whistling “Danny Boy” loudly and off-key.  
  
With nothing better to do, Watson allowed himself to doze, until disturbed by the sound of a train whistle.  He recalled many trips with Holmes, the journeys out with an expectation, and perhaps a little trepidation, at what they would find.  And the return journeys, either triumphant or more sorrowful, depending on the outworking of the case.  He wondered where they would go next.  He thought Holmes had mentioned a case near Bristol which might require a visit in the future.  Or maybe he would take a run down to Hastings to visit an old friend who had recently moved there.  
  
Further whistling, accompanied by footsteps on the stairs alerted him to the arrival of Inspector Lestrade.  Watson had not heard any movement from the rooms downstairs, so he had assumed Holmes was out and was therefore surprised at Lestrade's arrival.  The footsteps continued up the stairs and there was a knock on his bedroom door.  He called out and Lestrade came in.    
  
“Mrs Hudson said you were looking better this morning, so I thought I’d call in to see you,” the inspector said.  “She said she’d bring up some tea and a spot of early lunch.”  
  
The whistle of the kettle, which Watson could hear through the open doors, confirmed the first part of the statement.  
  
“I don’t want to put her to any trouble,” he said.  “She’s done enough for me already.”  
  
“She was quite adamant about it.  I can’t say I object.  It was an early start this morning, but with Holmes’ help we caught Barnaby in the act, so I won’t complain.”  
  
“It sounds as if I’ve missed all the excitement.”  
  
“You were better off in bed.  Holmes and I were crouched behind a fence, keeping in the shadows, for over an hour before Barnaby arrived.  I was very grateful once I could stretch again.”  
  
Mrs Hudson arrived with the tea tray, followed by the housemaid, who was carrying a second tray with cold meats on.  Once Mrs Hudson had arranged the tray with Watson’s lunch on it to her satisfaction, and voiced her approval at his improvement, she departed again, telling Lestrade not to tire the doctor out.  Lestrade grunted his acknowledgement through a mouthful of bread and he and Watson ate is silence for a while.  
  
Watson finished eating and Lestrade gathered the two trays up.  “I’ll give these to Mrs Hudson on my way out,” he said.  “I imagine Holmes should be back soon.  He told me he was going to the Natural History Museum to find further information on some butterflies.  I forget what he called them, but apparently they’re large and green, and have a connection with a possible theft from one of the houses near Holland Park.”  
  
With that Lestrade disappeared, once more whistling happily, and Watson lay back, wondering what would happen during the Case of the Large Green Butterflies.


	2. The Case of the Large Green Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watson relates the telling of the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LJ's Holmes Minor "Bed" challenge

I was lying in my bed one afternoon, slowly recovering from a fever, when Holmes burst into my room.  I was delighted to see him, for although the fever had gone I had not yet regained sufficient strength to spend any time out of bed.  He seemed in high spirits and was keen to share the progress of his case.  
  
“Did Lestrade mention to you I was visiting the National History Museum?” he began.  “He said he would try to call in to see you.”  
  
“Yes he did.  He told me you were interested in some large green butterflies.”  
  
“He was correct.  Now, the first question I had to ask myself was how easy it would be to steal a butterfly.”  
  
“If it were mounted in a case that would not cause a problem.”  
  
“The creatures were definitely alive.  Therefore one could not easily catch a butterfly without someone else in the household being aware of one’s actions.  Let me demonstrate.”  
  
Holmes picked up his cane, which he used to imitate a butterfly net and began running around my room after an imaginary butterfly.  He had just stood on my bed, with one foot on the back of a chair, when Mrs Hudson knocked and entered, bearing a tray with tea and bread and butter.  
  
“Really, Mr Holmes,” she said.  “If I thought the doctor required a court jester I would have asked the circus to send over one of their clowns.”  
  
Holmes climbed down and brushed the dirt off my bed.  He waited until Mrs Hudson had retreated, before continuing as if nothing had happened, “It then became apparent to me although stealing butterflies would be difficult, one could easily remove a caterpillar.  I therefore went to the museum to obtain a description of the caterpillars.  In the process I discovered how important it is to handle them with gloves, since any contact with bare flesh will result in a serious burn-like effect which will render the affected part permanently without feeling.”  
  
He paused to see my reaction.  “So you believe the caterpillars have been stolen for their own properties, rather than for their potential as butterflies?” I said.  
  
“I consider this to be highly probable.  I had thought of attempting to retrieve the caterpillars myself, but since my trusty assistant is not currently able to rise from his sick bed, I have instead relayed the information to the relevant authorities.”  
  
I did not like to say so, but I was thankful my indisposition prevented our taking part in that particular escapade.  Fortunately for me, Billy the page came running upstairs, calling out that there was a telegram.  Holmes left me, saying he hoped it would be confirmation of the capture of the caterpillars.  
  
By now I was feeling tired, and I lay down again for another rest.  Then, as the covers moved above me, I cautiously sat up again to check them, just in case they were hiding an errant caterpillar.


End file.
